That Old Familiar Feeling
by LadyChaos
Summary: Tachibana saves Uchimura from being clubbed by a senpai.


**Author's Notes: **This is part of my FanFic 100 prompt fiction on LJ. The prompt here is #49, Club. Special thanks to **JustJill** for helping me wrap my head around the beginning. And because everyone asks, thanks to lj user"trinityhelix" for creating my wonderful icon.

**Rating/Warnings: **PJ for mild language

"Little bastard! He fucking _bit_ me!"

The scuffling and swearing erupted from the courts. Tachibana's feet dragged, then stopped. _You're doing it again. There's no reason to watch the tennis team. Just leave it be._ He snorted. As if anyone could even call them a team. The Fudomine regulars were a mixed batch of no-talent, conceited thugs, not even good enough to make Shishigaku's practice squad. Not that they actually hit tennis balls very often. The bulk of their time seemed taken up with bragging to each other and making their kouhais miserable.

But this, this sounded like a fight. "It's none of your business," he scolded himself. He was supposed to pick up An and walk her home from school, not poke his nose into Fudomine Tennis Club's problems.

And problems it had aplenty. Tachibana had never seen a regular help one of the newcomers with anything remotely resembling tennis. He witnessed a lot of "accidental" shoving, heard a lot of bitter, indistinct words, and watched as ball after ball flew over the fence into the overgrown field beyond, the first years chasing after them, often being pummeled by more balls. The reason for the torment was obvious; the youngsters burned with the fire the regulars lacked. Every club had its traditions, and, besides, he had _given up _tennis.

"Leave him alone!"

It was nearly 5:30. Practice should have been over half an hour ago. He was surprised anyone was still around. Against his better judgment, Tachibana veered toward the fence surrounding the courts. Three team regulars were tormenting two first years. One of the regulars held a tiny boy by his shirt-collar while his two buddies glared at a curly haired boy who was picking himself up from the ground and dusting himself off.

"Keep out of this Mori, or you're next," warned one of them.

"Uchimura had nothing to do with it," Mori said. "Stop taking it out on him."

The subject of the argument tugged down his ball cap and sneered. "You think I'm incapable of handling this overgrown baboon, Mori? You asked him a question, and I demand an answer. Just how many balls are first years required to pick before their senpai-tachi deign to teach them to play? It's a simple and valid question. Certainly it's not my fault that Oshiro-senpai is incompetent in speech as well as in action. If he had half the brains born to a sea monkey, he would be capable of providing an answer, as it is—"

A slow smile spread across Tachibana's face as the little snark droned on and on and _on. _Kippei was more the hands-on type. Some days he felt like The Incredible Hulk: _Kippei SMASH!_ Before he realized it, he had slipped onto the courts.

"Oh yeah? Well, first years don't do nothing except pick up balls. That's what sensei says! So either eat your words." The older boy leaned in, towering over the half-pint. "Or I'll shove them down your throat."

"Oh! Wonderful! How very clever and resourceful of you, Oshiro-senpai! I would never have expected you to resort to violence—_not._ So, first years aren't allowed to touch racquets except when we straighten up the clubhouse? Not even to practice our swings once practice has completed? We are essentially…what is the word I am looking for?" Uchimura tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Oh, yes, _slaves._ Is that what you're saying? Speak up. I want everyone to hear you. I do realize that a bovine such as yourself finds it difficult to enunciate, but do make an exception in this instance—"

"Hey, Oshiro! Did he just call you a bovine?"

"Yeah. What the hell does that mean?"

"I think it's another word for queer.…"

"You little bastard! Hold him, guys!"

One of Oshiro's henchmen grabbed Uchimura by the shoulders. The other seized Mori before he could come to the smaller boy's aid.

"I'm gonna knock that mouth right off, bastard." Oshiro raised his racquet.

The racquet flew down, but Tachibana moved quicker. His large hand, used to gripping a racquet from its other end, caught and held Oshiro's mid-swing before it could connect with Uchimura's head.

"Is this how a senpai schools his kouhai?"

Tachibana, tall for his age, loomed over Uchimura's third-year assailant like an avenging demon. Oshiro yanked fruitlessly at his racquet. Tachibana tightened his grip. He kept his expression bland, but inside he was seething.

_A senpai had just attacked his kouhai._

"I asked you a question," he reiterated. "Is this how a senpai schools his kouhai?"

"Who the hell are you? Club members only!" The regular looked to his cohorts for help, but they took one look at the newcomer's face and backed away.

"Play me a game. One game," Tachibana demanded, feeling that familiar wildness firing his belly. "Beat me and you can hit me as many times with this racquet as you want."

"I do _not _require anyone's assistance!" Uchimura seethed.

"Be quiet!" hissed Mori.

Tachibana lowered his voice. "Or are you scared?" A feral smile stretched his lips into a snarl.

The third year blinked nervously. "Who _are _you?"

"Tachibana. Play me, Senpai." His voice lowered to a whisper only the two of them could hear. "If you have the guts."

"Tachibana?" one of the other regulars murmured. "Isn't he that guy from Kyushu who…?"

Tachibana laughed. For once his bad reputation actually helped his situation. He looked down at Oshiro and smiled, hard and slow. The shorter boy suddenly backed away, leaving Tachibana still clenching his racquet.

"Look, we don't want any trouble…practice is over."

"Then maybe," Tachibana growled, "you should _get the hell off of this court."_ He took a step toward Oshiro, and the three regulars scurried for the far side of the court.

"This isn't over, Tachibana!" Oshiro yelled. "You're nothing in Tokyo! Hear that? _Nothing!" _With a snarl, he booted a crate full of tennis balls over and slipped through the gate, his two henchmen hard on his heels. Yellow tennis balls bounced and skipped over the court.

Uchimura heaved a mournful sigh. "And we just picked all those up, too."

Mori caught a tennis ball on the bounce. "So we'll do it again."

Tachibana scooped up three more. "I'll help," he told them. _I'll help. _


End file.
